


Key Lime

by watercolorwaves



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drug Use, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Original Character(s), Summer Love, Underage Drinking, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watercolorwaves/pseuds/watercolorwaves
Summary: There is the sweet: the pining, the feeling of security, the sensation of feeling truly at peace.But there is also the sour: the fights, the miscommunication, the inescapable past and future.Kind of funny how much love is like pie.~In which Keith moves to Key West in attempt to escape the past, and ends up meeting local bakery boy Lance, who's got a thing for Fleetwood Mac and new beginnings.





	Key Lime

**Author's Note:**

> A few things before you start reading:
> 
> \- Though I believe Lance was confirmed to be the youngest of his family, he is written here as the middle child. Also, all of his family members are characters I have created by myself; none of these characters are confirmed canon in any way whatsoever. For future reference, here are all of the McClain children mentioned throughout this story plus their ages:  
> \- Miguel: 22  
> \- Theresia: 19  
> \- Lance: 17  
> \- Tobias: 13  
> \- Laurie: 7 
> 
> \- The paladins' ages are kind of unclear in the actual show, so I have somewhat altered their ages to appropriately fit the story. Here's another chart for future reference:  
> \- Shiro: 22  
> \- Allura: 20  
> \- Hunk: 18  
> \- Lance (again): 17  
> \- Keith: 17  
> \- Pidge: 16
> 
> \- This chapter is a bit slow solely for the purpose of establishing relationships between characters; I promise more exciting things are coming!
> 
> If you have any further questions or just want to chat, hmu in the comment section or ask me on tumblr (starlightsocks.tumblr.com)! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy:)

It was the hottest day Key West, Florida had seen in three years when the air conditioning unit at the McClain Bakery broke. Because of this catastrophe that had fallen upon the small, poorly ventilated barn-house style building, the family owned bakery/sandwich/coffee shop had been empty for most of the morning, leaving the McClain family alone to swelter in the discomfort of the muggy kitchen located in the back of the establishment. Though the family of seven had all had their moments of bickering throughout the three hours the shop had been open, the middle child was definitely the most vocal about the issue of overwhelming heat.

 

“Maaaaaaaa,” he whined, fanning himself with one of their laminated menus whilst sitting atop the metal countertop, once a cool surface that now only burned the back of his thighs, “how much longer until Papá comes back with the right parts for the AC? I don’t think I can take much more of this god-awful heat.”

 

“Lance, I don’t know.” his mother pinched the bridge of her nose in response to the question she’d been asked at least twice already by four of her five children. She looked up from the growing stack of bills that lay before her on the wooden desk that sat opposite of him; “And how many times do I have to tell you, get down from the counter; that’s where we prepare the food.”

 

Lance groaned in frustration but reluctantly stood from the counter, slipping on the hand me down pair of taupe-colored Birkenstocks he’d kicked off when finding the originally cool place to sit. The unbearable heat hit his bronze, freckled skin and sunk beneath his tee shirt, causing him to break out in a clammy sweat. Desperate to rid himself of the warm, wet blanket feeling, he strode over to his two sisters, who hovered above the slightly ajar ice box that sat near the back door. He squeezed between the two until he felt the freezer’s faint, icy wind hit his damp face. Lance sighed with relief, but was shoved out of the way before he got too comfortable.

 

“Sal de mi lugar, Lance!” his younger sister moaned, reclaiming her spot over the ice box. Laurie, the youngest McClain, was mouthy for a seven year old; though she wasn’t selfish, she’d put up a fight for what she wanted, and always seemed to get whatever it was.

 

“Guess you’ll have to wait your turn.” his older sister smirked, not turning from the humming machine to face him. Theresia, the second eldest sibling at nineteen, was a feistier version of their mother; with so many brothers and sisters, she learned to care for others as if they were her own, but wasn’t afraid to put anyone in their place.

 

Lance sulked and faced his last resort: the tile floor. With a rather loud thud, his bottom hit the ground, where he met his younger brother. Tobias lay shirtless against the tiles, his tank top placed over his eyes to block the blinding lights that hung over the well-lit kitchen.

 

“How’s it hanging, buddy?” Lance chuckled at the sight of his thirteen year old brother.

 

“Demasiado...caliente…” he sighed from under the shirt. Tobias was definitely his favorite sibling; he very smart for his age, but always found himself in trouble for putting himself in positions he did not yet know how to handle.

 

“What am I running here, a resort? Why don’t we all just lay on the ground, huh?” their mother suddenly appeared above them, her voice laced with frustration but a glint of mischievous fun shone in the same blue-gray eyes Lance had inherited. The boys stood without hesitation; their mother was a pistol of a woman, definite in her words and quick to judge, but protective and nurturing to the ones she loved.

 

“But it’s so hot, ma.” Tobias groaned, tugging the tank top over his mess of brown hair. “No one’s even here today.”

 

Just as soon as the words left the younger brother’s lips, the small bell that hung above the bakery’s door chimed. The McClain children quickly exchanged looks, then continued to press a finger to their nose, even the slightest hesitation putting them in danger. In the end, Lance was the unlucky one.

 

“It was Lance, he put his finger on his nose last!” Laurie exclaimed, rubbing her victory in the face of her brother.

 

“You know the drill.” Theresia teased, pushing him towards the front counter.

 

Lance rolled his eyes, accepting his defeat; who would even want to pay the bakery a visit today? The answer surprised him; as he approached the front counter, he was met with an unfamiliar face. Before him stood a short, pale boy, his cheeks pink from the sun’s harsh rays. He wore a shirt at least two sizes too big and a pair of scuffed up, blue-black Sk8-high vans, dirty from the mixture of grime and sand that covered the roads of Key West. His hair was long and unkempt, his medium length, jet-black locks sticking to the back of his neck with sweat. He definitely wasn’t from around here, but didn’t give off the tourist-y vibe, either.

 

“Hello, how can I help you today?” the customer ignored him at first, observing the large, chalkboard menus that hung on the wall behind Lance, decorated with ocean waves and various types of flowers.

 

“Sorry-” he finally said, making eye contact with the McClain boy, “I was told to come here and order a piece of your key lime pie?”

 

“Ah, you’ve come to the right place!” the McClain Bakery was known around the general area for it’s homemade treats, but was known throughout the keys and even some of central Florida for the key lime pie. Perfected with a warm, mushy graham cracker crust and coated with a lemon-lime drizzle, it was just the perfect amount of sweet and sour. Lance opened the refrigerated display case atop the counter to remove the pie, quickly shutting it behind him so the heat wouldn’t sink in, and placed the pie in front of the stranger, cutting a rather large piece from the center.

 

“Oh, I was just going to ask for the cheaper option-” the mysterious boy began before Lance cut him off.

 

“Relax, the first piece is always free.” he smiled, removing the slice and placing it on a plate a size too small. “But there’s one condition.”

 

“And what is that?” the customer raised an eyebrow, pulling the plate towards him.

 

“I get to know where you’re coming from, and what you’re doing here.” 

 

“A fair trade, I guess.” he pulled a stool from a nearby table up to the counter and sat, taking a bite of the huge slice of pie. “I just moved here from Texas, and my - um, the people I’m staying with told me to try you guys’ key lime pie; they’re apparently huge fans.”

 

“Texas, huh?” Lance squinted at the stranger, who did not resemble any Texan tourists that had stopped by the bakery before in any way whatsoever. “Never been up there myself, I’ve heard some cool stuff about it, though.”

 

“Trust me, you’re not missing much.” the stranger scoffed, not looking up from his pie. “They were right - the people I’m staying with; this is some good shit.”

 

The McClain boy chuckled, watching the customer take another large bite. “Guess you’ve gotta fill in that t-shirt some way, huh?”

 

He stopped eating to look down at his shirt, realizing just how much it swallowed him whole. “Oh, it’s not really mine. Kinda a...hand me down, I guess.”

 

“I’ve been there.” Lance walked around the counter to face the stranger, gesturing to his beat-up Birks. “These were my dad’s back in the ‘90s, they somehow found their way to me.”

 

“Vintage, I like it. Kinda resembles my shirt, which is most likely vintage considering I have no idea who this is.” he pulled on his large shirt, which read ‘Fleetwood Mac’ in faint, yellow letters.

 

“You don’t know who Fleetwood Mac is?” Lance nearly leapt at the stranger. “They’re only one of the best bands ever! Their music basically shaped the ‘70s music industry, gave the lovely Stevie Nicks the title of ‘queen of rock and roll’, and had one of the best-selling albums of all time back in 1977! Ah man, you’re really missing out.”

 

“Sound like it.” the customer gave him a small smile before pushing himself off of the stool. “Well, thanks for the pie and the music lesson; maybe I’ll give them a listen. Don’t wanna be the asshole that walks around in a band shirt that has no idea what the band is.”

 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna make for a good first impression around here.” Lance chuckled, walking back around the counter and retrieving the empty plate. “Tell me what you think of them when you listen.”

 

The stranger nodded and headed towards the door, but stopped as his hand touched the warm metal of the handle. “I’m Keith, by the way.”

 

“The name’s Lance; welcome to Key West, Keith.” he smiled, watching Keith walk past the large window out front and down the dusty street, leaving him alone to tend to the empty, boiling bakery.

 

~~~

 

It would be another day until the air conditioning unit could be fixed; the only hardware store in town did not carry the proper instruments to unclog the condensate drain. After a full day of soaking up the muggy air of the shop, catering only to Keith and a few other tourists who dared to drop by, the McClain children were faced with their favorite part of the day: quitting time. From five o’clock until sundown, they were given the opportunity to roam the streets of their beloved island, free to do whatever their hearts so desired. While Theresia usually took Laurie and Tobias to Flamingo Crossing, an ice cream parlor owned by the Garrett family, Lance would drive the blue, beat up Volkswagen Van used for the bakery’s deliveries to South Beach. He’d claimed a small area on the north side of the waterfront as his own about six years ago when he discovered a secret area of the beach hidden behind the ficus trees’ aerial roots. The foamy surface of the water kissed the warm sand that massaged his feet in waves small enough to be considered ripples, making for a perfect safe haven. But on this particular day, his small corner of the world wasn’t only his. 

 

As he pushed back the large, vine-like roots that hung from the trees above, Lance noticed a figure sitting at the edge of the water. He took a sharp breath in; no one had discovered this spot on the beach in six years, how could someone just stumble upon it now? He took a step forward to examine the scene, quietly as to not disturb the unwanted guest, but realized that this stranger wasn’t really a stranger at all.

 

The jet-black hair was now tied up in a small ponytail that hung from the back of his head, revealing tour dates of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Shake the Cage’ tour in the same faded, yellow print on the backside of the huge shirt. He sat cross-legged just before the shoreline, an ancient device balanced on his knee with a pair of cheap headphones plugged in, resembling those which were handed out on an airplane for free. Lance sighed in relief; it was only Keith.

 

“So,” he said in a voice a bit louder than usual, causing Keith to turn, “you found the gem of the island. And on your first day, too; that’s an accomplishment!”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Keith removed the pair of cheap headphones ad Lance drew closer to the water. “The people I’m staying with didn’t really want me home without exploring the area, so while I was trekking along the beach, I found this place.”

 

“It’s nice,” Lance kicked off his sandals, “probably my favorite spot on the island.” He rolled up another cuff of his light wash denim shorts until they hit his mid thigh, then dipped a sandal-tanned foot into the rolling waves, the cool water sending tingles that coursed up his legs and throughout the rest of his body. 

 

“So, I’ve walked into ‘your property’, I presume?” Keith smirked, watching Lance wade into deeper waters.

 

“Yeah...I didn’t wanna have to do this the hard way, but I’m gonna have to ask you to leave and, like, never come back.” the McClain boy teased from the sea. “Nah man, you can come back whenever you want; just don’t get in my way, alright?”

 

“Sure, whatever you say.” Keith rolled his eyes, fiddling with the the contraption beside him.

 

“Also, don’t bring junk like that onto my beach.” Lance began wading back to shore. “It’ll probably pollute the water, or kill the...sand, or whatever.”

 

“I don’t think a Discman is going to kill the sand, if that’s even physically possible.” Keith shifted over, offering Lance a space next to him. “Plus, I’m only doing what you asked.” He popped open the portable CD player, revealing a grungy copy of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Rumors’ inside.

 

“Pshh, how cliché.” he took a seat in the sand, rubbing a few stray beads of water on his shorts. “This is only their most popular album, don’t go thinking you’re too special.”

 

“And to think, I was actually considering thanking you for introducing me to them.” Keith scoffed, scooting away from Lance.

 

“No, wait - you can still thank me!” the McClain boy laughed, pressing his back into the sand. 

 

“I think I’m good for now.” Keith chucked, fiddling with the cord of his headphones as silence fell between the two, creating a slightly awkward atmosphere. “Uhh...nice sunset you guys have here.” he gestured to the sky painted pink and orange, finally breaking the quiet.

 

“Oh, shit! I’ve gotta get home.” Lance jumped to his feet and grabbed the worn out sandals, making a beeline for the aerial roots before turning back to face him. “See you tomorrow?”

 

“Um, I guess?” it was more of a question than confirmation, but Lance nodded as if actual plans had just been made. He vanished through the thick, vine-like roots, leaving Keith alone to listen to the flip-flop noise his Birkenstocks made as they hit the sand beneath him and the frying sounds of water evaporating once they hit the shore under what was left of the blazing, Floridian sun. 

 

~~~

 

He was never given a curfew, but Keith arrived at his current place of residency a quarter past eight, not knowing whether Carrol or Marcus would expect him home early or not. To his surprise, the mansion that stood on the Upper East Side of the island was completely empty, only a note left on the marble table in the the entryway explaining where they were. 

 

“Going out with friends, don’t wait up for us - dinner in the fridge. - C+M”

 

Keith smiled, a feeling of relief sweeping over him; he wasn’t really in the mood to explain how he walked aimlessly around a new island for seven hours and didn’t make one friend. He traveled into the kitchen, a lavish room decorated with marble countertops and African Blackwood cabinets, and opened the black, French-door refrigerator, revealing a frozen one person, pepperoni pizza. Keith sighed; he’d been living in their house for three days now, and had been eating personal pizzas every night since. He threw the pizza into the oven and set the timer for twenty five minutes, the reached for his Discman as the oven around the pizza turned a deep crimson color. As the dough rose, the music of the past flooded the kitchen, filling up every space in the lonely, marble room; he honestly hated the house, but the voice of Stevie Nicks made it tolerable. He ate alone in the dining room, occupying one space at the long, black table that sat twenty, and cleaned the porcelain plate he had used before retiring upstairs.

 

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, was too big; the white-walled room filled only with a bed and nightstand was like the shirt Marcus had given him in the way it swallowed him whole. The only aspect Keith liked about the room was the balcony that overlooked the ocean and the city below; he liked to watch the families walk the streets together, the young couples dance in the sea, the people love one another. He slipped off his dirty shoes and walked onto the balcony, where a city like lighting made him blink until he looked away. He turned towards the stars, a vast sea of Christmas lights shining down on him, as if they were the comfort he had sought for for so long. And for the first time in quite a while, Keith felt peace fall upon the place he would soon learn to know as home.


End file.
